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A GILDED BRICK 



A Comedy in One Act 



By 

Willard Holcomb 



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Philadelphia 

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CoPYRigjrtffSgS "^Y.T^f *?^i^ PiJblishh^p Company 



'•• • • • 




A Gilded Brick 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

KiTTiE Clay A " gilded brick " 

Marie Bisque An heiress 

John Van Devere A real swell 

Dick Schryver A poor author 

Mrs. Wishington A matchmaker 

Willie WiSHiNGTON A parlor match 

Florence Detrop A superfluous girl 

Jack Dothunter Hu?iti?ig an heiress 

Count de Bogus • . . Hunting an heiress 

Lord Fitznoodle Hunting an heiress 



Costumes — Modern 
Time in Representation — Forty-five minutes 



A GILDED BRICK 



SCENE. — Conservatory of the Bon- Ton Hotel dtiriyig a 
ball — Florence Detrop and Jack Dothunter discov- 
ered standing, l. 

Florence. I don't care, Jack Dothunter, I think you 
have treated me just shamefully ! Ever since that horrid 
Httle heiress came to the hotel you've deserted me entirely. 
You've been hanging after her just like all the rest of the 
fellows. I don't see what you find so fascinating about her ; 
I think she is just horrid, and so do all the girls ! 

Jack. Now don't be hard on Miss Bisque ; she's quite 
amusing, don't you know. 

Florence. Amusing? Disgusting! Why, she's posi- 
tively " outre," and if it wasn't for her money she wouldn't 
be tolerated in polite society ! Think of her dancing the 
" skirt dance " in the parlor — why, all the girls were shocked 
almost to death ! 

Jack. Maybe that was because they couldn't do it as 
well — 

Florence. Jack ! 

Jack. Oh, it isn't her fault that she is a trifle free and 
easy ; it's her bringing up. She's as good as gold at 
heart. 

Florence. At pocket, you mean. But that's right, stick 
up for her, as all the men do — only let me tell you, Jack 
Dothunter, you're going just a little bit too far with me ! 

Jack. Really, Miss Detrop ; I don't think you have a 
right to call me to account in this manner — 

Florence. Haven't I ? Well, then, we'll just break our 
engagement right here, and when your heiress throws you 
over, where'll you be then, Mr. Dothunter? 

Jack, {aside) That's so ; I haven't got her yet, and Flor- 
rie's good second choice, even if she isn't quite so rich. 
{Aloiid) Now, Florrie, don't be foolish. You know I love 
you alone, and that this is only a little flirtation to fool your 
mother. 

Florence. Well, you're making it a little bit too re- 
alistic, that's all. 

Jack, {coaxingly) Come, now, won't you forgive me ? 

5 



6 A GILDED BRICK 

Florence, {relenting) Will you promise me to keep 
away from that Bisque girl ? 

Jack. Why, certainly, if you wish it ; only I can't be rude 
to her, you know. 

Florence. You needn't have anything to do with her 
— here she comes now, with enough fools following her. 

(Kittie C7id Marie appear at door, c, with several gallants 
followifig.) 

Jack. I must see her a minute — to break an engage- 
ment. {Starts.) 

Florence, {decidedly) This is our dance, I believe, 
Mr. Dothunter, and the music is just started. 

(Jack reluctantly gives her his arm, and she leads him off, l.) 

Kittie. {at door) You must excuse me now, gentlemen, 
as I have an engagement for a curtain lecture from my 
chaperone. ( Waves them, off) Now, Marie, dear, we can 
have a moment to ourselves. Oh, did you see that Detrop 
girl drag Mr. Dothunter off just as we came in ? She's as 
jealous as a cat. People say they are engaged, but he pro- 
posed to me last night. 

Marie. I don't wonder she's jealous of you, then. Did 
you accept him ? 

Kittie. Not much ! I put him on probation with the 
rest. 

AiARiE. With the rest ? 

Kittie. Why, yes ! Didn't I tell you ? Lord Fitznoodle 
took me out riding this morning, you know, and between 
talking horse and staring at me with that glass eye — I mean 
eyeglass — of his, he managed to drawl out that he'd " be 
deuced glad to have me hitch up in double harness with 
him, don't ye know." {Mimic ki?ig him) 

Marie. Who was the other ? 

Kittie. Oh, Count de Bogus was laying for me out on the 
lawn after lunch. He went down on his knees and got his 
white trousers all over grass stains, and then he raved like 
a regular Italian opera lover, all about la bella luna. {Imi- 
tates him.) 

Marie, {laughing) What d'd you say to him ? 

Kittie. I told him he was a bella lunatic and that I'd 
thank him to quit making a circus of himself out on the 
lawn, where everybody could see him. 

Marie. Well, you have been breaking hearts at a terri- 
ble rate. Now, what are you going to do with them ? 



A GILDED BRICK 7 

KiTTiE. Well, before we made this exchange of costume 
and name, by which I was to i)lay tlie part of the rich Miss 
Bisque, the belle and heiress, with you in the humble role of 
my companion, you told me that there were no such things 
as " love " and " chivalry " in modern society ; that it was all 
match-making and money worship. Now, I thought 5''ou 
had grown a little bit suspicious and cynical with too much 
success, so when you agreed to exchange places with me I 
thought I'd see for myself. 

Marie. What do you think of it now? 

KiTTiE. Well, I'm not so certain as I was that the life of 
an heiress is all roses. There's lots of spiteful little thorns 
among them, and, worst of all, is the thought that you are 
being courted only for your cash. 

Marie. That's just what I told you, but you thought it 
must be glorious to have gowns and jewels and flowers 
and fun, with never a qualm as to the cost. 

KiTTiE. It was awfully jolly — for a time. Didn't I create 
a sensation when I first came ? 

Marie. You certainly did, and you've kept it up ever 
since. 

KiTTiE. Now, don't lecture me, dear. I know I've been 
a little too fresh sometimes, but luckily no one knows you 
here, and they all forgive my breaks. Whatever I do goes 1 

Marie. Because " money makes the mare go," and a 
good many other things, too. 

Kittie. Do you really think that is the reason, that they 
only flatter me, because they think I have a fortune ? 

Marie. Not entirely, dear, for you have a good heart 
and honest ways, which won me when you were yourself. 
But as for me, I thought long ago that my money was my 
chief cliarm, and this little masquerade of ours has con- 
vinced me. Nobody cares for me now, except as a means 
of getting into your good graces. 

Kittie. You poor darling! You have been most neg- 
lected, cheated out of your rights by me, an impostor. Oh, 
why can't they see that I'm a fraud! Does a little gilding- 
make such a difference that common clay can't be told from 
real bisque ? 

Marie. Never mind, dear, I'm not jealous of your 
triumphs. I have experienced them myself and know of 
their emptiness, which I am afraid you must soon learn. 

Kittie. {sadly) I'm afraid so, too. 

Marie. Come now, Kittie, don't be downcast. We've 
enjoyed this little comedy so far ; let's carry it through mer- 
rily to the end. 



8 A GiLDEt) BRICK 

KiTTiE. That's what I'm worrying about — the end. 
I've played leading lady for nearly a week now, and done 
fairly well, but I'm getting shaky in my lines and begin to 
wish I were a plain soubrette again. One can cover up a 
break with " business " then, but this high comedy acting, 
before a critical audience, is an awful strain. 

Marie. Well, we must end it soon. I've just received 
letters from friends who are coming here to-morrow, and 
they'll expose our imposition immediately. 

KiTTiE. The sooner the better, then, but I want to put 
these lovers of mine to the test, and see if it's me they're 
after, or my supposed fortune. So I've held them all off 
and promised them an answer to-night here in the conser- 
vatory. 

Marie. All at the same time ? 

KiTTiE. Yes ; then I'll tell them the truth and see what 
they'll do. How's that for a dramatic climax? 

Marie. Quite thrilling; are there any others in the 
tableau ? 

KiTTiE. Well, little Willie Wishington has been follow- 
ing me around all afternoon, as if he had something on the 
place where his mind ought to be, but he hasn't succeeded 
in saying anything so far, and from present indications I 
don't think William will be in it. 

Marie. How about Mr. Van Devere ? 

KiTTiE. (//^ confusio)i) Oh, he hasn't said anything — 
only he has been very nice to me. 

Marie. Suppose he should propose ? 

KiTTiE. {quickly) Oh, I hope he won't. I mean, Mr, Van 
Devere is too much of a man of the world to care for me, 
and he's too rich for a fortune-hunter. 

Marie. Kittie, Kittie, he's the only one of them all who 
has touched your heart. 

Kittie. {sobbiiig) Oh, Marie, I can't help it ; but that's 
what makes me so miserable. I'm afraid he will despise 
me when he knows what a fraud I am. 

Marie. You love him, then? 

Kittie. {softly) I'm afraid I do. 

Marie. Poor little girl ! God grant that no sorrow may 
come to you through this masquerade, for to me it has 
brought a great happiness. Hush ! here comes some 
one. 

{Enter Vh^ Devere and Dick Schryver. Marie a?id 
Kittie sit concealed behind a clnmp of palms ^ 

Dick. Well, how are you enjoying yourself, old man ? 



A GILDED BRICK 

Van. Rather poorl}^ thanks. 

Dick. Oh, you old cynic ! You've been a society pet so 
long that you're spoiled. You don't enjoy life any more, 
except to laugh at it. Why, I think this the most delightful 
evening I ever spent ! 

Van. {nonchalantly) Why? 

Dick. Oh, the music, the flowers, the lights, the dresses — 

Van. Quite the regulation thing at most balls, I 
believe. 

Dick. There is something more, and that's what I've 
dragged you off here for — to tell you in private. 

Van. What's that ? 

Dick. You know Miss Clay — Marie Clay ? 

Van. Ah, Miss Bisque's companion ? 

Dick. Yes ; what do you think of her ? 

Van. Appears to be a very quiet, well-bred sort of girl. 

Dick, {eiilhnsiaslically) She's an angel. 

Van. Indeed? 

{Mild sensatio7i beJiind the palms — Marie and Kittie.) 

Dick. And she has promised to be my wife ! 

Kittie. {hugging Marie) Oh, you darling, why didn't 
you tell me ! 

Van. Well, well, Schryver, congratulations, I'm sure. I 
think she'll make you a good one. But — what are you 
going to live on ? 

Dick, {erithusiastically) Love ! 

Van. Very good to lend glamor to a scene like this, but 
scarcely strong enough to warm a house when coal is high. 

Dick. I know I'm a poor devil, who ought not to think 
of marrying, but Marie is a sensible girl. I've told her all 
this, and it didn't terrify her a bit. She says there are worse 
things in the world than poverty, and that we'll manage to 
live somehow until my books begin to sell. 

Van. Very brave of her. Few girls nowadays would 
dare as much. My blessing on you both, my boy ! 

( TJiey shake hands. Marie a?td Kittie whisper behind the 
palms) 

Dick. Well, how is it, old man ; you seem to be struck 
on the heiress yourself. Haven't you enough money of 
your own, or is she a relief to these fortuneless damsels 
who are always throwing themselves and their families at 
your head ? 

Van. Who said I was struck ? {Curtly) 

Dick. Oh, nobody, but you seem to be in the chase. 



lO A GILDED BRICK 

Van. I'm not in the chase ! 

Dick. Now, don't be uppish, old man, you know you 
have paid her more attention than any other girl here. 

Van. Well, maybe I have. She interests me — mildly. 
She's fresh and original — evidently newly transplanted from 
her native fields to society's hothouse, but a decided relief 
from the regulation heiress. 

Dick. She's a regular brick ! 

Van. Yes, a gold brick ; and all these penniless pros- 
pectors are after her, 

Dick. Do you know, I believe if it wasn't for your con- 
founded pride, you'd turn prospector yourself. 

Van. Hang it, man, do you want me to confess that 
I'm in love with her, when I haven't known her a week ? I 
tell you, she interests me as a social study, a new specimen 
in this menagerie of ours. 

Dick. Ha ! ha ! Very good ; but don't get too close to 
the cage, or you may get caught. And if this is a menage- 
rie, here comes the hippopotamus, Mrs. Wishington, mother 
of the " moon calf," the greatest curiosity ever exhibited in 
any show. 

{E)iter Mrs. Wishington,/?/ and effusive) 

Mrs. Wishington. What's that about a show? 

Dick, {mendaciously) Oh, we were just talking about a new 
circus that's come to town. 

Mrs. Wishington. Ah, you giddy boys ! Still fond of 
monkeys, just like my Willie. That makes me think, you 
haven't seen Willie recently, have you ? I've lost track of 
him completely, and I'm afraid he will be getting into some 
trouble. 

{While Van and Dick deny all knowledge of Willie's 
whereabouts, Marie and Kittie slip out from behind the 
palms and appear as if from the door at the right. Mrs. 
Wishington discovers them first?) 

Mrs. Wishington. Ah, girls ! You here ? 
Kittie. {fiaively) Yes ; we just came in. 

(Marie and Dick pair off, a?id Van makes for Kittie, but 
Mrs. Wishington balks his plan.) 

Mrs. Wishington. Oh, Mr. Van Devere, would you do 
me the favor to look in the buffet and see if you can find 
Willie ? I'm so nervous about him. Send him here to me, 
please, while I have a nice long talk with dear Miss Bisque. 



A GILDED BRICK II 

(Van frowns mid obeys reluctantly ; Kittie makes a face ; 
Marie and Dick smile and walk l. Exit Van, c, Marie 
and Dick, l.) 

Mrs. Wishington. {embracing Kittie) Oh, you dear 
child! I've been longing for a nice, quiet chat with you 
all day. 

Kittie, {half aside, bid ivithout interrupting the torrent of 
Mrs. Wishington's talk) Sorry the desire has not been 
mutual. 

Mrs. Wishington, Come right over here and sit down, 
dear. ( They sit l,) Do you know, something about you 
reminds me of my Willie ? 

Kittie. Indeed ! 

Mrs. Wishington. If only he'd been a girl. It makes 
me feel just like a mother to you, poor, unprotected thing. 

Kittie, Thanks. I can take care of myself, 

Mrs. Wishington. Ah, but you need some one to warn 
you of the snares and pitfalls of society. Such an attrac- 
tive girl as you is always pursued — 

Kittie. For her money ? 

Mrs. Wishington. Quite right, my dear, and I want to 
warn you right now against that Van Devere. Not but that 
he appears all right, but — 

Kittie. But what ? 

Mrs. Wishington. {cautiously) They say he has been a 
terrible rake in his time. 

Kittie. Who says so ? 

Mrs. Wishington. Oh, it's common report, and I my- 
self know that he has traveled a great deal alone — some- 
thing I would never think of letting my Willie do — and 
they say he has almost dissipated his fortune. 

Kittie. Why, I thought he was considered quite rich ? 

Mrs. Wishington. That's what they say, but you know 
you can't depend on all you hear. Now, it would be just 
like him to try to repair his shattered fortunes by marrying 
you. 

Kittie. Thanks, but I happen to know that Mr. Van 
Devere has no such intentions. Besides, I would sooner 
suspect him of being a victim of fortune hunters than one 
himself. 

Mrs. Wishington. {i^elieved) That's so. Isn't h disgust- 
ing the way some girls throw themselves at his head ? I 
declare, when I witness such things I'm glad that I have no 
daughters. Besides, he might fall in love with them, and 
then I should be obhged to set my face against him. 

l.ofC. 



12 A GILDED BRICK 

KiTTiE. {sarcastically) Luckily he is spared that pain. 

Mrs. WiSHiNGTON. But then he's not half so bad as 
some others I know. There's that Lord Fitznoodle, as he 
calls himself, although people say he is no lord at all, but 
just a common horse jockey ! 

KiTTiE. That's no disgrace among the British nobility, 
I believe. 

Mrs. Wishington. Then there's Count de Bogus. He 
may be a Count, for all I know ; Counts are dreadfully com- 
mon in Italy — but, do you know, there used to be a hand- 
organ grinder in the city who looked just like him, and if 
it wasn't the Count himself, I believe it was his brother. 

KiTTiE. {hotly) Oh, Mrs. Wishington, you make me 
tired ! 

Mrs. Wishington {still smili?ig) Don't say " tired," my 
dear, that's such a common word — say " weary." 

KiTTiE. Well, weary then, awfully weary ! 

Mrs. Wishington. That's just what my Willie says 
when I lecture him. But then you know it is a mother's 
duty, and I feel just like a mother to you. I've often wished 
I had a daughter, and if Willie ever wants a wife, I know 
whom I should choose. Willie admires you, too, very 
much. 

KiTTiE. {coldly) Highly flattered, I'm sure ! 

Mrs. Wishington. And he's such a dear good boy, 
Willie is— so domestic in his tastes. Ah, he'll make some 
girl a good husband, that I know, for I've trained him my- 
self and never let him go anywhere without me. Oh, here 
he comes now ! 

{Enter Willie Wishington, a vacuous dude, slightly tipsy 
and confused) 

Willie. Do you want me, mamma ? 

Mrs. Wishington. Yes, dearie, come right in. Miss 
Bisque and I have just been talking about you — now don't 
blush ! {to Kittie) — Willie is so modest, but that's a rare 
virtue in men nowadays. 

Willie, {stammering) How de do. Miss Bisque ? 

Kittie. {calmly) Very well, I thank you, Mr. Wish- 
ington. 

Mrs. Wishington. Here, Willie, take my seat beside 
Miss Bisque. I know you have something to say to her — 
{7iudging him vigorously). I'll leave you to yourselves {de- 
pai^ts with expressive pantomime to Willie). Now be good 
children ! 

{Exit Mrs. Wishington, c, triumphantly) 



A GILDED BRICK I3 

(Willie edges nervously toivard settee, where Kittie sits 
with her back turned partly toward him) 

Willie, (aside) Mamma told me to pop the question to 
her to-night, so I went down and popped a cork or two for 
practice, te-he ! {Giggles tipsily) Mamma wrote out what 
I was to say to her, but, by Jove, I cawn't remember a word 
of it! That ginger ale must have gone to my head. I've 
got it here, though. {Shows paper in crown of his crush 
hat) So here goes ! {Braces up unsteadily to Kittie.) My 
dear Miss Bisque — 

Kittie. {faci?ig about sharply) Well ? 

Willie, {startled aiid confused) I have long telled to 
wish you — I mean I have long wished to tell you {forgets 
lines) — 

Kittie. Well, now's a good time. 

Willie, {looking in hat) I have longed wished to tell 
you of my ardent admiration for yourself and your {for- 
gets again) — 

Kittie. {suggestively) Money? 

Willie. Beg pawdon ; nothing about money, I assure 
you. {Looks i7i hat.) Yourself and your transcendent 
beauty — transcendent beauty ! 

Kittie. " Transcendent beauty " is good ; go on. 

Willie, {reading) I need not tell you that the Wishing- 
tons are a proud race, dating their ancestry back to-er-er 
{stuck)— 

Kittie. The ark, perhaps. I believe Noah had speci- 
mens of all living creatures on board. 

Willie, {studying his hat) I cawn't make it out, don't 
you know. Mamma wrote it out for me, and there's some- 
thing about " being proud to link our name with yours," 
and " kneel," yes, ** kneel," by jove ! {Kneels awkwardly 
in the centre of room) 

Kittie. Why, what is thi-s all about, Mr. Wishington ? 
{Stares at him) 

Willie, {badly embarrassed) I really don't know, don't 
ye know ; only mamma wished me to wish you — that is, to 
tell you that she wished you — that I wished you to become 
Mrs. Wishington ! {Exhausted) 

Kittie. Oh, is that all ? Why, I thought you were giv- 
ing me a lecture on genealogy, with illustrations in panto- 
mime. Then I am to consider this a proposal ? 

Willie, {meekly) Yes, ma'am, if you please. 

Kittie. Well, I can't give you an answer now; you 
must take your chances with the rest. 



14 A GILDED BRICK 

Willie. Beg pawdon, with the rest ? 

KiTTiE. Certainly ; you are not the first nor only candi- 
date for my hand and fortune. 

Willie, {still more meekly) May I get up ? 

KiTTiE. Yes, do. You look awfully awkward there on 
your knees, and it's about time the others were coming. 

Willie. Don't I get any show, then ? 

KiTTiE. Certainly ; you shall have an equal chance with 
the others ; but I'm going to put you all to the test. Ah, 
here they come now ! 

(Jack appem^s r., Lord Fitznoodle c, and the Count l. 
All see Willie and each other, a?id hesitate to enter?) 

KiTTiE. Come in, gentlemen, all of you ; I'm waiting for 
you. 

Count de Bogus. Excuse me, Mees Bisque, but I didt'ink 
zat you vould be by your lonesome at dees hour — 

KiTTiE. Oh, that's all right. Count ; come right in. I'm 
ready for you. 

Lord Fitznoodle. Beg pawdon, but I thought I was the 
only starter in this heat, don't ye know — 

KiTTiE. Oh, no ; there are several hot favorites, and Mr. 
Wishington here has just entered — at long odds. {Turfiing 
to Jack.) Don't go, Mr. Dothunter, I'm expecting, you, 
too. 

Jack, {muttering) Some other time. 

KiTTiE. {decisively) No ; " now is the accepted time," or 
rejected, as you like. 

{All enter slowly and stand about nervously. Dick and 
Marie appear at door, l.) 

Marie. May we come in ? 

Kittie. Certainly ; come in. This little affair concerns 
you as much as myself or any of these gentlemen. 

(Dick and Marie enter ; suitors stand about silent and em- 
barrassed ; as Kittie commences to speak Mrs. Wishing- 
ton a7id Van Devere appear at centre door a?id sta?td lis - 
tenifig, Van Devere behind. 

Kittie. {steadily) Gentlemen, 3^ou have each done me the 
honor to offer your hand and name in exchange for my re- 
puted fortune, for, in spite of your flattery, you cannot con- 
vince me that hearts- enter into this transaction at all. It is 
purely a business matter on both sides ; my money buys 
your title or social position — isn't it so ? {Mild expressions 



A GILDED BRICK I5 

of depyecatio7i and dissent all aroimd) Oh, yes it is. And 
so, before accepting any one of these proposals, I have 
called you all here to make a public explanation. I don't 
want to have you charge me afterward with obtaining a 
husband under false pretenses, so I tell you now that " my 
face is my fortune." I have no other. {Mild sensation all 
around^ 

Jack, {aside) She's bluffing. I looked her up in Brad- 
street's. 

Lord Fitznoodle. Beg pawdon, but aren't you the 
Bisque filly, backed by a cool million ? 

KiTTiE. No ; there stands the real Miss Bisque. {Poi?iti?ig 
to Marie.) 

Count de Bogus {excitedly) Ah, but why dis deception ? 
Did you not announce yourself as ze real Miss Bisque and 
she your companion ? 

KiTTiE. No, sir. We simply exchanged our last names 
by mutual consent, and allowed you to believe what you 
liked. You thought me a " gold brick," but it is merely gild- 
ing. Isn't that true, Marie ? 

(Marie nods assent, at which Mrs. Wishington, who has 
been an interested listeiier at back, shrieks, a?id pretends 
to faitit 171 Van Devere's arms. Great confusion ; all 
rush toward her. 

Willie. Oh ! oh ! mamma has fainted ! Somebody get 
something, quick ! 
Jack. I'll go. 

{Exit hurriedly, r.) 
Count de Bogus. No, let me. 

{Exit L.) 
Lord Fitznoodle. All off together. 

{Exit c.) 

{At the denouement Dick and Marie stop behind palms for 
mutual explanations, leaving Kittie alo)ie in the centre.) 

Mrs. Wishington. {reviving) Oh, where am I ? Where's 
Willie ? {She braces up and glares at Kittie.) Oh, the shame- 
less hussy ! To think that she might have entrapped my 
poor Willie ! 

{Exit centre, dragging Willie by the arm) 



1 6 A GILDED BRICK 

{Crushed and almost crying, Kittie stands alone in the ceti' 
tre. Van Devere comes slowly down to her — she hears 
him a?id turns quickly.) 

Kittie. {sharply) Well, what are you doing here ? Why 
don't you run off with the rest of them ? 

Van. {slowly) Because I want to ask you to become my 
wife. 

Kittie. {surprised) But I'm not even "a gilded brick" 
now ; the gilding's all rubbed off. ( The last almost sadly.) 

Van. You're a genuine brick, which is better, and I want 
you for my own fireside. {Comes closer, but Kittie draws 
back) 

Kittie. {saucily) Indeed ! Maybe you want to make a 
closer study of me ; I'm told I interest you — mildly. {Mimics 
him.) 

Van. {aside) The deuce ! She must have heard me. 

Kittie. {in the same baritering to?ie) Or possibly you 
would like a new specimen for your own private menagerie. 

Van. {earnestly) Oh, Kittie, don't make a fool of me, as 
you did of the others. Tell me plainly, do you love me — 
yes or no ? 

(Marie appears from behind the pahns, where she has been 
with Dick.) 

Marie. Yes ; she has confessed it to me. 
Van. My darling! {Catches Kittie in his arms and 
kisses her) 

Dick. Ditto here. {Hugs Marie.) 

curtain 




Practical Elocution 

By J, W. Shoemaker, A. M. 

300 pages 
Cloth, Leather Back, $1.2$ 
This work is the outgrowth of 
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Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 

The Penn Publishing Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 112 662 7 # 

SHOEMAKER^S 



1 he National School 

°f Klocution and Oi*^tory 



ii 



ODD FELLOWS' TEMPLE 

Broad and Cherry Streets 
Philadelphia 



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""""^^ I GEORGE B* HYNSON, ESQ. 



